


celebrity crush

by shionz



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Actor Victor Nikiforov, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pets, Shoplifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shionz/pseuds/shionz
Summary: “Well..." Yuuri runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "What are you gonna do then, rob a PetSmart?”The silence he receives as a response is palpable, and Yuuri realizes immediately that he’s made a terrible,terriblemistake.Or: the one where Victor's a famous movie star, Yuuri just wants his roommate to make dinner, and Phichitreallywants to spoil his hamsters.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 49
Kudos: 396





	celebrity crush

Yuuri thanks his lucky stars that no matter how many nights in a row he ends up sprawled out on their ugly couch with a million hamsters crawling all over his body, he somehow manages to avoid getting hamster crap in his hair every time. 

“Oh, no, they’ve definitely shit in your hair before. You’ve just never noticed,” Phichit says from the kitchen. 

Yuuri takes a moment to lament the cold, hard truth, then groans and slowly sits up, making sure the rodents scurrying across him don’t fall to their doom—A.K.A. straight onto him and Phichit’s carpet (covered in way too many cheeto crumbs). 

Yuuri has one snuggling against his neck and another trying to make a home in his sweaty, skating jacket while Phichit has one on his head and another in his left hand as he searches for anything edible in their fridge. How their landlord hasn’t figured out they have four furry friends when they’re not even allowed to have _one_ (and likely another coming soon, because Phichit is insane) is beyond him. 

“Hey, Yuuri?” Phichit asks.

Yuuri pushes his glasses up with one hand and adjusts the fluff-ball on his shoulder with the other, grabbing the remote next to him in hopes of finding a channel that works well as background noise. 

He turns his head to the kitchen slightly to let Phichit know he’s listening. “Yeah?”

“Wouldn’t it be cool if we had money?” he deadpans. “Like… more than ten bucks between the two of us.”

Yuuri huffs and keeps scrolling through the TV guide ( _Love It or List It_ , boring, _Cake Boss_ , annoying… Oh, _Jersey Shore_ reruns? … No, also very annoying). “Sure would be.”

Having more than ten bucks would be _very_ cool, actually. Being able to spend money on things that aren't basic necessities and the occasional coffee seems like a faraway luxury Yuuri could only wish to achieve, but he guesses that’s just the way college life will continue to be.

Yuuri was lucky his parents insisted on sending money to help with some of his rent, because without that, he knew they’d absolutely be out on the streets in an instant if it all depended on the two of them right now. He’d be living in a chewed up cardboard box with four hamsters on the chilly streets of Detroit while Phichit scribbled something like 'help me feed my babies!' on a sign. 

It was his parents’ idea for him to live in an apartment instead of a dorm once he decided to move to the states anyway, just so he could get that 'true adult experience!' instead of being cramped up in a tiny room with a random student he might end up hating. 

He was grateful for their help, though; the anxious monster that makes up a good chunk of his personality was absolutely elated over getting to live on his own and choose a roommate only if he wanted to. Which he didn’t think would happen _ever_ , but… here they are now: two weirdos (one socially skilled, the other socially… constipated) who bonded over figure skating once during their first week of college, Phichit immediately declaring, “We should totally live together!”

Yuuri continues idly clicking through channels, and eventually realizes he should probably settle on something he and his roommate _both_ enjoy so he doesn’t have to deal with Phichit’s whining (“we never watch what I wanna watch!”). He nearly squeaks when he stops on some romance film in the middle of a heavy sex scene, though; one that looks a little _too_ intense for this channel, if Yuuri’s being honest.

His face turns a likely hideous shade of red and he turns the volume down at breakneck speed, just so Phichit doesn’t think they’re having a repeat of the rather unfortunate event that occurred a few months ago—an embarrassing moment Phichit dubbed the 'Pervy Yuuri Incident' that will haunt him until the day he dies; Yuuri had accidentally cast an obnoxious video on Pornhub straight from his laptop to the TV in the living room without realizing it… And, well, Yuuri isn't entirely sure of his own religious beliefs, but he had immediately prayed to whatever higher power that would listen, begging for the leaky floor in the apartment above them to finally collapse right there and put him out of his misery. 

(“Don’t worry, Pervy Yuuri; I get it. A man’s got needs!" his roommate consoled him. “Didn’t expect you to be into _that_ , though—”

“Phichit!”)

Yuuri’s blush only intensifies as the camera pans up to the face of the male actor, and the spark of recognition he'd felt earlier suddenly bursts into flames. He knows that face; all sparkling eyes and chiseled cheeks; perfect skin and smirking lips, looking every bit as alluring bathed in warm light and dramatic shadows as he does even in shaky candid photos taken by fans who are, somehow, even creepier than Yuuri. 

Victor Nikiforov. Russia’s heartthrob movie star that Yuuri kind of, maybe, definitely has an unhealthy obsession with… or something.

But, surprisingly, Yuuri doesn’t think he’s even seen this movie before; he _definitely_ would’ve remembered this one. 

He tightens his grip on the remote and scrapes his fingernail against the buttons, absentminded, before turning the volume up just a smidge. When he speaks, his voice comes out an embarrassing octave higher than usual as he tries to feign nonchalance. “Phichit.” He clears his throat. “Do you wanna watch this movie with me?”

He hears the clattering in the kitchen stop for a second. “… Who’s in it?” Phichit asks, a knowing smile working its way through his voice. 

“Uh…” Yuuri clicks the guide button, pretending to check if the cast is listed before responding. "Victor… and some other chick. She’s pretty.” 

She is pretty, it’s true, but Yuuri’s too embarrassed to comment on the fact that Victor’s abs are _also_ very pretty, and that that’s the only thing he’s really paying attention to.

Phichit groans, the clattering starting up once again. “I don’t think I can handle another night of you drooling over that stupidly sexy Russian. We watch his stuff all the time! Can’t we watch something else… like… some messed up horror or disaster movie? Maybe a thrille— _OH MY GOD,_ I almost dropped Josy in the _sink_!”

Yuuri snorts and plucks the hamster off his own shoulder to get a better look at it. This one’s white and orange and Yuuri totally forgets its name, doesn’t even remember if it’s a boy or a girl—and if Phichit knew that, he’d probably deck Yuuri in the face—but the hamster _is_ very cute. 

“What do you think?” he asks the fluffy creature in his hand. “You want to watch a cheesy romance movie starring the hottest guy ever with me?”

The hamster blinks at him.

Yuuri smiles and rubs the top of its head with his finger. “This one says it wants to watch the movie with me! Can’t believe a hamster is being a nicer roommate than you.” 

Phichit splutters and drops… something. Yuuri doesn’t know what he’s doing in there but it’s loud. “She’s not an _it_. Her name is Minnie, and she’s a sweet, beautiful lady!”

Yuuri blanches. “Sorry, Minnie.” He kisses the hamster’s nose to seal the apology. 

The noise in the kitchen only continues and Yuuri takes that as an obvious, “no, I will not watch your dumb movie with you no matter how much I love you," even though Victor’s movies aren’t anywhere near dumb—in Yuuri’s opinion at least, and he’s always right (don't ask Phichit to back him up there, though)—but his friend will always jump at the chance to make fun of him; lovingly, of course. 

Though, in Yuuri's mind, Victor’s movies are unmatched by nearly any other that's been released in the last decade; cinematic masterpieces in every aspect, even if he did snag a few questionable roles in the beginning. If you dig hard enough you can even find all of them, too.

 _You’re definitely a creep_ , Yuuri scolds himself.

But it doesn’t matter how dull or corny a movie may seem at a glance, because Victor will take a role and run with it, getting you sucked into a film you had no intention of paying attention to in the first place, and that’s something Yuuri greatly admires . 

So maybe it's not _that_ creepy, when you spin his thought process a certain way. It's just like being invested in any figure skater he's idolized in the past, harboring intense feelings for a person he's never actually met before. It's completely normal; Yuuri just appreciates a dedicated performer when he sees one, that's all.

Phichit, on the other hand, doesn't really share Yuuri's sentiments—at least not completely. He thinks Victor's a total 'over-actor' and way too dramatic for his liking. ( _Phichit_... finding somebody _too dramatic_.) But he also agrees Victor's 'pretty as hell, goddamn; what do his parents look like?', so he'll often suffer through Yuuri's favorite movies for that reason alone. 

Yuuri settles against the couch again and turns the volume back up as he puts Minnie in his pocket to snuggle up against her friend. If Phichit won’t watch another Nikiforov movie with him, then Yuuri is perfectly fine doing it alone. He’s done so many times before anyway; even before he moved to Detroit.

Yuuri’s mind flashes to the first time he ordered a poster of Victor while he was still living at home: Mari had been the one to check the mail the day it arrived and teased him mercilessly for days, until he threatened to burn all the boy band posters she had tacked to the walls of her own bedroom.

Yuuri does still feel a little abashed every time he thinks about it, though. He is quite literally the textbook definition of an annoying fanboy and it _kills_ him, but he can’t help it. _Everybody_ falls in love with Victor, even just a little bit, every time they find out about him; Yuuri is simply just succumbing to the way the world works, really. 

He’s also very much lost on the story-line of this movie so far, likely because he started when there was only about twenty minutes left, but it seems to be completely different from Victor’s usual stuff—this one being some sort of murder mystery, so _why_ there was such a heated (and _long_ ) sex scene, Yuuri has no clue, but he makes a mental note to watch the movie in it’s entirety later. 

He scoots forward on the couch and gently bites his nail as a police interrogation unfolds, the colors dull, grey, and grimy and the lights fluorescent, as the older cop grips the table and shouts at the man who’s been arrested, shaking with anger. 

Yuuri is literally on the edge of his seat, picking at the fabric stretched over the cushion and anxiously awaiting the culprit’s identity reveal, right on the brink of figuring it out—and then Phichit slams the fridge door loud enough for anyone within a five mile radius to hear, and Yuuri practically jumps out of his damn skin.

He flings the remote off the couch and shoots his hand down at lightning speed to cradle the hamsters cuddling in his pocket, like they’re his children he has a primal instinct to protect.

Phichit is definitely starting to rub off on him.

Once Yuuri’s sure his heart isn’t going to burst through his chest from the sheer force of its pounding, he turns to scold Phichit, who is doing an awful job of looking angry with two hamsters sleeping on his shoulders and a frown on his face as he leans in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“That’s it. I’m tired of being broke. There is not a _single thing_ I can use in our kitchen to make treats for the kids!” Phichit huffs, arms crossed over his chest. 

Yuuri almost laughs, but he knows his roommate’s being serious; if there’s one thing Phichit doesn’t joke about, it’s his ‘kids’.

Yuuri frowns, leaning over as far as he can to try and snatch the remote back without having to actually stand up. He groans in relief once he succeeds and mutes the TV, more lost now than he was before over what’s happening with the plot. _Thanks a lot, Phichit_. 

“You were trying to make hamster treats this whole time?” Yuuri whines. “I thought you were making _dinner_.” 

Phichit scrunches his face up. “Why would I make you dinner?”

“Because it’s your night to do it; we switch off!”

Phichit sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging. “Well, I clearly had more important things to do tonight! Yuuri, I haven’t gotten to spoil my babies in _so long_! Don’t you remember when I used to make those special little meals for them? The ones from those cute hamster videos online with the recipes?!—”

“Phichit.”

“And they would get so happy about it; I could just _tell_! If they could talk, I’m sure they would’ve even—”

“Phichit.”

“ _Yuuri!_ ”

Yuuri feels like they’ve had this conversation a million times by now. 

Phichit will kick and scream over not being able to treat his gerbil children to the lives of luxury they truly deserve, and about how not being able to buy real diamond collars and hundreds of dollars worth of toys and treats is absolute torture; and then Yuuri will remind him that they’re just hamsters and don’t need much more than what they currently have—and that if it’s so terrible, Phichit could always just give some of them away—and then Phichit will give an incredulous squawk and smack Yuuri upside the head until he apologizes for even _mentioning_ keeping only _some_ of them. 

Yuuri rubs his palm against his forehead, trying to ease the beginning of an inevitable headache that always comes when Phichit gets this way. “You know they don’t need a ton of stuff to be happy, right? I think you love them more than most parents love their kids—their _human_ kids—so, I’m sure they’re fine… You gonna make dinner now?”

Phichit pauses for a moment, chewing his lip and scratching Josy’s head. “… No.”

Yuuri groans and sags against the couch. He should’ve seen that coming. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know!” Phichit beams, flashing his signature ‘I’m being an ass, and I totally know it’ smile.

“Well…" Yuuri runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "What are you gonna do then, rob a PetSmart?”

The silence he receives as a response is palpable, and Yuuri realizes immediately that he’s made a terrible, _terrible_ mistake. 

He turns his head slowly to face Phichit again, the frown he wore previously now completely erased and replaced with something close to awe, like he’s just experienced an incredible revelation. 

“Phichit…” 

That seems to shake Phichit out of his trance as he jumps nearly a foot in the air and squeaks ( _squeaks,_ like maybe his hamsters are his kids after all, and they actually inherited that noise from Phichit himself) before rushing over to grip Yuuri’s shoulders with all the strength he can muster, careful not to jostle the pets on his shoulders too much as he moves. 

“Yuuri, sweetie, I always knew you were smart, but the words that just came out of your mouth were _genius_!” 

Yuuri pales and rests his hands over Phichit’s, squeezing hard, like maybe if he holds on tight enough it’ll stop his roommate from running out of the house and _robbing_ a _PetSmart_.

“I wasn’t being serious! Phichit you can’t go rob some place just because you can’t afford a munchy stick for your hamsters!”

Phichit rolls his eyes fondly and shakes his head, like he’s talking to a small child that isn’t fully grasping the situation. Yuuri feels his left eye twitching. 

“I’m not gonna _rob_ them; that’d be stupid! I’ll just go shove some stuff in my jeans or whatever… If they think I look suspicious with my pants lookin’ all big, I’ll just tell them that _my_ munchy stick is actually just that massive, sir, now _please_ stop eyeing my package—” 

“Phichit, you’re insane!” Yuuri squeezes his hands impossibly tighter. 

Phichit straightens up and flaps his hands around, frowning like he can’t believe Yuuri isn’t agreeing right along with him that this is an amazing idea. 

“I’ve done this stuff before, don’t worry. I mean, I rarely do it, because if I did it all the time, _that’d_ be stupid,” he drawls, as if his current plan isn’t, in fact, also very stupid. “But remember the time I snatched that lipstick for you? The one you were too embarrassed to buy? It’ll be fine!” 

Yuuri closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose. He definitely doesn’t want to be reminded of that phase, _thank you very much_.

“That color looked really nice on you, too!”

Yuuri groans and sinks further into the couch. 

If this were anyone else, Yuuri would laugh along with the obvious joke and send them on their merry way, out the door and down the street to the nearest pet shop where they would end up actually _buying_ the treats they wanted because _of course_ they would; that’s what you’re _supposed_ to do… but this is Phichit. 

The guy who—they thought— _jokingly_ asked their friend group if he should backflip off the roof at a college party and see if he could make it into the pool (he definitely shouldn’t have made it, it was _way_ too far, and Yuuri’s mind was immediately close to bursting with depressing thoughts of broken necks and sad, orphaned hamsters), and did.

The guy who asked Yuuri if he found the clearly-over-seventy-year-old man sitting in Starbucks cute, to which Yuuri sarcastically replied, “yeah, give him my number," and did.

And the guy who noticed Yuuri nervously eyeing a red lipstick in the back of CVS a year ago and immediately came to his rescue, shoving the lipstick along with a nude shade directly into his boot with no hesitation (“for when you want something a little more natural, y’know?”). 

“You’re not gonna listen to anything I say, are you?” Yuuri murmurs, cracking one eye open. 

“Oh, Yuuri!” Phichit coos, pressing his hands to his cheeks and smiling. “Of course not! Now—” He carefully moves Josy off his right shoulder and moves her to his left before bending down to pull the other two out of Yuuri’s pocket, and… Yuuri has given up all fight at this point, really. 

“I’m gonna go put them to bed, and you’re gonna stay here and be the best babysitter ever, right?” Phichit asks, but he’s already turning away and making a beeline for his bedroom, not giving Yuuri any wiggle-room to protest.

Yuuri sighs and brings his hands up to his face, rubbing them over his eyes and nose to try to lessen the immediate exhaustion that seemed to hit him the second Phichit finished talking, but he scrunches his nose up and yanks them down when the scent of hamster bedding hits him. 

Of course this had to happen on the night Phichit was supposed to make dinner… Yuuri’s probably _more_ upset about that than anything else, honestly.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at the sound of Phichit tripping over his own feet in his eagerness as he bumbles around his bedroom, rushing back out a minute later with a giant smile on his face. 

“Y’know you’re the best roommate in the world?” Phichit asks, breathless and hopping around as he tries to tug his (already tied) shoe on, shooting a hand out to steady himself against the wall. “I could kiss you.”

“I’d appreciate it if you _didn’t_ do that.”

Phichit cackles and nods, finally pulling the shoe up over his heel. “Right, I’ll wait for you to put that lipstick on again.”

“Stop bringing that up!”

“It looked cute on you!”

Yuuri huffs and folds his arms across his chest. Phichit’s going to be the death of him one day, he’s sure of it. His autopsy report will read: **Cause of death:** _brain_ _aneurysm due to hamster shenanigans_.

Phichit straightens up and grabs his phone off the table by the TV, shoving it into his pocket—Yuuri’s only just realized he’s changed into baggy sweatpants with big pockets, _ugh_ —before giving Yuuri a little wave and practically sprinting to the door. 

“If you get locked up for the night, I’m not coming to pick you up when they release you,” Yuuri says with a flat stare as Phichit reaches for the doorknob.

Phichit does a full body jolt and stares back in shock, wide-eyed and jaw dropped. “You’re terrible. I take back every compliment I just gave you. You’re not getting a kiss _or_ those dried strawberry treats for rabbits we both know taste _really_ good.” 

Yuuri feels his face flush. “That was embarrassing. You told me you got those at the grocery store when you made me eat them.”

“It was just dried fruit; it’s not weird to—” 

“Just _go_.”

“Okay!”

Without another word, Phichit twists the doorknob and flies out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a _whoosh_. The sudden silence that creeps in anytime Phichit leaves is always a bit jarring. 

Yuuri sighs loudly and picks up the remote again, turning the volume back up on the TV so he can focus on something other than the conversation that definitely just aged him ten or more years in the span of a few minutes.

At least this trip to the pet store will drain Phichit of his monthly ridiculousness, and Yuuri won’t have to deal with it again for a while once he comes back home—or, at least… that’s what he hopes.  
  


* * *

  
Okay, so maybe Phichit went a little overboard. 

But one of the many unimportant things he’s learned while enduring the freakiness that is college in the U.S. (along with how to smoke out of an apple and survive solely on Doritos) is that he’s a Taurus—the hippie chick in his English class told him so, and she had a cool necklace on, so Phichit believes that everything she said was one hundred percent legitimate—which also means (apparently?) he’s determined as hell. 

Which, in this scenario, definitely seems to be the case.

His hamsters seem a little moody because they haven’t gotten their hand-made mini burritos from Phichit in a few months? Then he is sure as hell going to find a way to lift their spirits! 

And if that means shoving packs of treats and toys down his pants, in his pockets, and up his shirt (and a small hamster keychain inside his mouth and under his tongue like the most uncomfortable thermometer _ever_ ), then so be it!

To Phichit’s surprise, the employees seemed to catch on fairly quickly, the stares burning into the back of his head switching from suspicious to downright shocked and confused as Phichit grabbed things left and right like he owned the place. 

He clung to the little sliver of hope in his mind that maybe what he was doing was so insane and idiotic that the store would just let him go because they agreed it was a funny idea… because that’s how the world works, right?

Apparently not!

Which is why he’s now running through the mall connected to the pet store, dancing through the gaps between tables in the food court with a grace and leg strength he only has figure skating to thank. (Who would’ve thought such a sport would help him with good ol’ pet store thievery?) 

He hears the panting and wheezing of the mall cops chasing after him—Phichit thinks they should’ve hired at least one person who isn’t out of shape and nearly fifty for a job like this, honestly—as he picks up the pace, wincing at the sharp edges of plastic scratching against his legs and stomach with every movement he makes. 

This is probably the dumbest thing he’s ever done in his life so far, Phichit is well aware, but at least it’ll be a nice story to tell the grandkids, huh? 

When he finally breaks through the crowd and sees the exit of the mall just across the room, his head spinning and a dumb smile on his face (which makes no sense, because he is _literally_ point two seconds away from being arrested for being a moron), he swears he hears angels singing. He shouts in excitement, causing an even bigger disturbance to the public in addition to likely ruining many awkward mall dates as he continues to sprint through the building.

Phichit’s hands are a little busy holding up all the goodies stashed in his clothes, so he slams against the exit with his shoulder to shove it open, hitting it so hard he’s surprised his shoulder doesn’t pop out of place or shatter completely, _ow_ , and continues rushing down the sidewalk. 

The wind is harsh and cold against his face, making his eyes squint and his hair blow back as his feet slam against the concrete. And then, it only takes a mere ten seconds for the reality of his plan to sink in—the fact that he doesn’t actually have a plan _at all_. 

Phichit _walked_ here… Of course he walked here. He’s a broke college student who had to use a shoelace he found under Yuuri’s bed as a _belt_ the other day; the last thing he’d be able to afford anytime soon is a _car_. 

He chastises his past self for not thinking this through, because how did he, even for a _second_ , think he’d be able to pull this off on foot? Yuuri called him insane earlier, and Phichit thinks that may be the understatement of the century. 

Phichit stutters to a halt, arms flailing as he tries to stop anything from falling out of his clothes. He hears the gruff shouts of the mall cops a bit behind him still, and his heart rate bumps up to a speed that is _definitely_ not healthy—he briefly worries he’s going to have a heart attack right here on the sidewalk, and when he falls to the ground he’ll choke on the keychain still in his mouth and _die_.

Phichit forgot to snag more of those dried strawberries, too, so they won’t even be passed along to his lovely roommate once his corpse is found… Yuuri would be so mad.

That is ultimately the thought that pushes him to do just _one_ more thing to make his day a little bit crazier, because at least it’ll make it so he survives long enough to get his hands on those strawberries.

He whips his head in every direction, looking for someone, _anyone_ , that is sitting in their car in the crowded parking lot. The red Toyota Corolla across the street? Empty. The yellow buggy directly across from it? Abandoned. The grey… something with a broken window held together by cardboard and duct tape further down? _No one_. 

He feels his breaths quicken and his vision go blurry with the speed of his movements, desperately searching for something that’ll help him get out of the mess he originally thought would be hilarious (and, well… it still kind of is), and the mall cops’ voices are only getting _louder_ ; he thinks he hears even _more_ of them this time, and— 

There.

 _There_!

Phichit doesn’t know what catches his attention first: the silver hair covering the face of the driver, practically sparkling as the shine of the setting sun bounces off of it—Phichit can’t really make out what the person looks like; their head is partway down and Phichit’s too busy feeling like he might actually throw up to look any closer—or the fact that they’re driving an honest-to-god _bright pink Cadillac_ with the top up. 

Definitely not the most inconspicuous ride, but any elderly person cool enough to drive a bright pink Cadillac _has_ to be a little more willing than most to accept Phichit’s sudden demand to make them his getaway driver. 

He huffs in relief, all worries of being caught and looking ugly in his mugshot whisking away. Then, it’s as if a portal opens up beneath his feet and spits him back out next to the car, because he’s suddenly clinging to the door handle and wrenching it open before he even realizes he’s made it across the parking lot. 

He flings himself into the white leather passenger seat with an _oof!_ and slams the door shut, turning to face the window without even greeting the driver; Phichit barely registers them jolting at the sudden intrusion, screeching as they throw their phone in the air out of the corner of his eye. 

His pulse quickens at the sight of the mall cops stepping onto the street now, fury written all over their faces as they charge in his direction; they definitely know _exactly_ where he ran off to.

Without turning his head or replying to any of the stuttering questions spilling out of the panicked driver beside him, Phichit reaches out to smack their arm with the back of his hand, and says, “ _Mmmph!_ ”

“W—what?!”

Oh, right.

He spits the keychain onto the floor. “Drive!” 

“Wh—”

“ _DRIVE!_ ”

It only takes a few seconds of the driver fumbling with his keys (clearly freaked out because Phichit is acting like a complete maniac right now—this dude probably thinks he’s about to be killed or something) before the engine starts up and they’re peeling out of the parking space at a speed that is definitely ticket-worthy. 

Phichit is momentarily pressed back into his seat as the car accelerates, but recovers in time to press his face against the glass and keep an eye on the chaos outside. The driver moves through every gap and swerves around every bend at lightning speed, and Phichit makes a mental note to give his thanks in the form of letting the stranger pet one of his hamsters later tonight. 

The sounds of screeching tires and his own panting fill his ears, and he feels himself relax just the tiniest bit as they finally make it to the entrance of the main road, the mall cops growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

Once the driver makes a right turn onto the street and the mall disappears from Phichit’s vision completely, he slumps over in his seat and groans. What an eventful thirty minutes…

There's nothing but silence for a minute, and the gentle hum of the car is almost enough to make Phichit fall asleep right there, hunched over as his breaths finally even out. His body feels like it's buzzing—TV static transformed into a physical feeling and surging through his every cell. 

Without even thinking about it, he breaks the stillness by lifting his shirt up and letting the packages among packages of hamster treats and toys fall into a messy pile on the squeaky clean floor. _Man, not even a speck of dirt in this thing, huh?_

And then he reaches down to pull out the rest he has hidden away, but is suddenly reminded of the driver to his left due to the _very_ high-pitched squawk he emits at the sight of Phichit shoving his hands down his pants. 

Phichit jumps in his seat and freezes up. Right… he just forced this guy to be his getaway driver; he's probably _terrified…_ What the hell was Phichit _thinking_?

As if the reminder wasn't embarrassing enough, Phichit really does get the fright of his life when he finally turns to face the other man and feels like his soul is suddenly sucked out of his body by the world’s strongest vacuum, pulled out of his throat while he tries not to _choke_ —

Phichit stares in silence, eyes widening for about three seconds before he finally shrieks loud enough to make the driver swerve. 

He's… he's looking at Victor Nikiforov.

Phichit is in Victor Nikiforov's car.

Is this an adrenaline induced hallucination or is this actually happening? He has no idea. He doesn't… he doesn't _know_. 

Victor glances between Phichit and the road, licking his lips anxiously and looking torn between wanting to say something and like he's about to drop dead any second. He looks… like a mess, honestly. If Yuuri heard him say that about Victor _ever_ , it would only be a matter of seconds before he threw all of Phichit's personal belongings onto the street and kicked his ass out. 

He looks pale and sweaty, his silver hair not swept back and silky smooth like it usually is in the movies, but stuck to his forehead and knotted in the back… Mess.

"You're Victor Nikiforov!" Phichit shouts. He should definitely be saying other things right now, but he can't find it in himself to care much at the moment. 

The man jolts and stares back at him, wide-eyed. "And you're… in my car," he says slowly, looking more frightened by the second. "D—do… do you have a _gun_? What were you just reaching for?"

Phichit frowns. "Do I have a—? _No_! I was just..." He finally reaches into his pants, not missing the way Victor immediately tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "Taking this out!"

The man deflates at the sight of the hamster stuffed animal in Phichit's hands, holding it up like it's the greatest trophy one could ever receive. He squeaks it and flashes a grin in Victor's direction.

Victor tries to give one in return, but fails miserably. Y'know when kids have their first picture day at school and their smile looks more like them just gritting their teeth, forced and awkward? … Yeah. Poor guy.

"I'm not dangerous or anything, I swear!" Phichit shouts and waves his hands around for emphasis. "I just care about my fur babies and haven't been able to spoil them in a long time… so I made a trip to the pet store… y'know,” he trails off. 

Victor looks back at him for a millisecond and makes a strained ' _haaa' s_ ound. "Sure… Yeah."

"I'm serious! I… _look_ —" 

And suddenly he's shoving his pants halfway down in Victor Nikiforov's car.

If Yuuri were here, he'd open the door and jump out. 

Victor makes another noise, this one more of a gurgling sound, while Phichit throws more packages off his lap and onto the floor to join the others. "See!" he exclaims. "Weapon free! I'm just a simple man providing for my children!"

That seems to help release some of the tension in the actor’s shoulders, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly as he looks down at the mess Phichit's made on the floor… Whoops. 

"Okay." Victor swallows and breathes deeply through his nose. "Okay."

"Nothing to worry about!" He beams. "I just needed a ride home."

Victor huffs, using his turn signal to merge into the other lane before stopping at the light. Phichit then remembers he hasn't even told him where to go, and that they've been driving aimlessly for the past ten minutes—he almost feels bad about it, but then realizes the last thing Victor is likely ever stressed about is paying for _gas_. 

"So you decided to just hop into my car and scare me half to death? You didn't have a friend waiting around or anything?" Victor asks with a frown, but he doesn't seem _that_ pissed about it, surprisingly; he looks more relieved than anything. 

Phichit blanches, shooting Victor an apologetic look. "My bad; I wasn't thinking straight. I went there on foot like an idiot… but thanks for not kicking me out of your car yet! It's kind of tacky, but I can appreciate someone bold enough to drive a pink caddy." 

That finally pulls a real smile out of the actor and he quirks an eyebrow at Phichit. "You're welcome," he replies, but then the last comment seems to catch up to him and he splutters. "W—wait, _tacky_?! It's not tacky! She's a beauty!"

"Meh." Phichit shrugs. "The outside's probably the best part, honestly, but the white leather is atrocious." 

Out of everything that's happened between them so far, _that_ is the comment that seems to make Victor want to kick Phichit out the most. 

"It's not atrocious. It's sexy," Victor grumbles.

“S—” He cuts himself off. The last thing he should be doing is arguing about what is and isn't sexy with _Victor Nikiforov_ while Phichit’s dressed in dirty sweatpants and smells like rodents and food court.

Victor seems satisfied with his silence and a smug grin makes its way onto his face… but Phichit is Phichit so he doesn't let the silence last long. 

He relaxes in his seat, arms folded across his chest, and sighs. “So… one of the biggest actors in the world right now _and_ listed as this year’s sexiest man alive—what’s that like?”

“What, you a big fan?” Victor smirks. “Gonna steal a lock of my hair and sell it on eBay? Open up a jar in here for a couple minutes, seal it, and write ‘Victor’s breath’ across it with a heart?”

Phichit blinks. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Being famous is weird.”

Phichit hums. As much as he wants to be recognized for his skating one day, Phichit can’t imagine being in a major spotlight like Victor is every second of his life. Sexy, Hollywood actor famous and figure skating famous seem like two _very_ different things. 

And then it hits him again that he’s actually sitting in a car with Victor Nikiforov… Oscar winning Russian heartthrob with abs to die for—but Phichit’s not gonna make a move or anything, because Yuuri called dibs first and he’s a _good friend_ , okay? Victor’s Swiss friend is cuter anyway.

But now Phichit is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that people would literally kill to be in his position right now; even Yuuri… _Oh my god, Yuuri_. He’s going to lose his mind over this. 

“Yuuri is never gonna believe this,” Phichit says aloud. 

He’s seriously _not_ going to believe it… at all… unless he sees Victor with his own two eyes, and if all Phichit does is tell him about it, he’s just going to call Phichit a mean friend for making up a story like that and get all, “Victor would never assist you in your petty gerbil crimes, Phichit!” but yes, he would, Yuuri—oh yes, he _would._ He _has_!

Victor frowns. “My Yuri?”

“Your—?” Phichit racks his brain for a second over what the hell that means, and belatedly wishes he had recorded Victor saying the words, “my Yuuri,” and… _oh!_

Yuri Plisetsky. He vaguely remembers Yuuri nearly having a stroke over the announcement of Victor’s new co-star because, “that means he’s said my name out loud… kind of!” Some coming-of-age film is set to be released next winter with the two of them playing major roles; from what Phichit’s seen in interviews, he’s a feisty child indeed.

“The brat?” Phichit asks for clarification.

Victor stiffens for a second and instinctively checks the seat behind him; he replies when Plisetsky doesn’t miraculously rise from the floorboards to bash his skull in. “Yes.”

“No, _my_ Yuuri—my roommate. He’d murder me in cold blood if I told you this, but his crush on you is probably visible from outer space… You swing that way, right?”

Phichit’s pretty sure he knows the answer to that question already, but the last thing he wants is to get smacked by a lovely Mrs. Nikiforova and her million dollar wedding ring for assuming.

“Ah…” Victor shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “You’re not gonna try to set us up, are you?”

Oh… oh, Phichit hadn’t even thought of that. 

His lips stretch into a wicked grin as he wiggles his phone out of his pocket. “Well,” he muses, “I don’t know how much work I’d have to put in to get you two together. He’s _very_ cute.”

Victor scoffs and turns right, still hellbent on their destination to nowhere. “From what I’ve heard, dating fans doesn’t usually go well. How cute are we talk—"

Victor practically chokes on his own tongue when Phichit reaches over and flashes his lockscreen.

“That’s… that… uh. That’s a real person?”

Phichit cackles.

The picture is of him and Yuuri standing in front of the ice rink during one of the many inevitable snow days that comes with the chilliness of Detroit winters. Yuuri’s face is squished against Phichit’s, nose scrunched up and red from the cold, hair sticking out wildly from under his beanie with snowflakes melting against his glasses. Yuuri looks unfairly adorable in it—and Victor seems to vehemently agree.

“This, my man, is Yuuri _Katsuki_. Figure skating genius—katsudon enthusiast. He’d probably suck your toes if you asked nicely… What do you say, Nikiforov? Wanna go get some of that Katsuki booty?”

Victor babbles like an idiot for a moment before slapping his hand against the screen attached to the dashboard with all the coordination a Yuuri-drunk man can muster (so not much), pulling up the GPS app.

“Your address— _now_.”

Phichit snickers and taps away at the screen as fast as he can, then settles back in his seat and focuses his attention on his phone once more. The least he can do is give Yuuri a heads up before they bombard him, since this is quickly going to transform into one of the craziest nights of _his_ life, too, in just a few minutes from now.   
  


**Phichit:** _you’re never gonna believe who i’m bringing home rn_

 **yuuri bb:** _Oh good, you didn’t get arrested._

 **yuuri bb:** _Who? Victor? Lol._

 **Phichit:** _… <3_

 **yuuri bb:** _??????????????_

 **Phichit:** _turn off auto caps, you freak  
  
_

* * *

  
Yuuri is kind of—only a little bit (a lot)—freaking out. 

Yuuri knows for a fact that there is no way in a million years Phichit would bring _Victor Nikiforov_ to their house; according to his Instagram, he was in LA just a few days ago and didn’t seem in a rush to leave anytime soon, so Yuuri doubts he’s even in Detroit at all, but that doesn’t make him any less nervous.

Phichit being cryptic only precedes bad things; he’ll deny that he’s hiding anything at all when it’s clear that he _absolutely is_ , and the resulting situations are always complete and utter disasters (disasters Phichit will later insist are amazing and hilarious, when they’re really anything but, and always make Yuuri want to fling himself off the nearest bridge).

So no, of course Phichit isn’t bringing Victor Nikiforov over to their house—Yuuri’s not an idiot. But he’s bringing _someone_ , someone important enough for Phichit to even bring it up at all, and Yuuri’s anxious little heart just can’t handle that, okay?

He’s currently on his hands and knees, sweating his ass off with their hand-held vacuum in the living room, sucking up as much hamster bedding as he can and, _god_ , how does this stuff just get _everywhere_?

If Phichit is so excited over this mysterious guest that he feels the need to mention it, the least Yuuri can do is tidy up the hellhole that is their shared apartment; he also found the headphones he accused Phichit of stealing two months ago tucked behind the couch, so at least he’s getting more out of this than just a stiff lower back and aching knees. 

Who could he be bringing? Yuuri’s awkwardness basically bars him from making any friends whatsoever, unless the other person hurls themselves full-force at Yuuri until he can do nothing but accept their friendship, which is basically how he came to know Phichit anyway—them both liking figure skating just added fuel to that obnoxious fire… so he knows he can’t be bringing some old friend they made when college first started.

Unless Yuuri met them while he was super drunk and _Phichit_ remembers, but he doesn’t… that is a very likely possibility. But Drunk Yuuri has a switch that only seems to flip between flirtatious and downright scandalous in a much too short time span, so he _really_ hopes that prediction isn’t accurate.

The only other person he can think of is his mom, and just the thought of her popping up unannounced and taking a gander at the sorry excuse for meals they have tucked away in their cupboards has his life flashing before his eyes, so really… Yuuri is kind of screwed no matter who Phichit brings over, it seems. 

Maybe he should just take a shower and then… go to bed. Pretend he doesn’t even live here? That seems like a good idea. He’s never been good at interacting with most people even if he is given a warning first. 

He shuts the vacuum off and stands on shaky legs, stretching his arms high above his head and leaning back until he feels a satisfying _pop_ in his spine—if Phichit were there to hear it, he’d probably gag.

With that, he shoves the vacuum back into their not-so-organized storage closet and makes his way to the bathroom. Even if Yuuri’s not able to fully execute his ‘I don’t exist, I do not live here, who is Yuuri?’ plan to avoid any and all unwanted social interaction, he wants to at least get that shower in. 

But the world is cruel, so not only has it bestowed upon him the pleasure of being socially inept at every waking moment, it also wants him to have pit stains and a sweaty face to match for whoever is about to walk through that door, because the doorbell rings before he even gets a chance to pull the shower curtain back. 

Yuuri groans petulantly and rubs the nearest towel against his face with a huff and sprays Phichit’s awful body spray against his neck before trudging towards the door. Oh well, maybe Phichit can just do all of the talking tonight. That’s definitely more his thing.

He grabs the knob and twists, yanking the door open fully expecting to be greeted with familiar faces, and they definitely are _both_ familiar faces, but… but… but… 

Vic—

Yuuri yelps. 

The world stops spinning and starts up again at high-speed, the earth cracking beneath his feet to swallow him whole; the world as he knows it is ending, Yuuri Katsuki is soon to die, and his blood turns to ice in his veins… or at least that’s what it feels like. 

“Hi!” Victor grins… _Victor_.

Victor is on his porch. Victor Nikiforov is on his porch, standing in front of him on… on his porch. _What_?

His hair is messier than usual and he’s dressed in a tight grey v-neck with skinny jeans and black boots, paired with a golden watch and a few rings that look like they cost more than Yuuri’s entire apartment complex. He looks _good_ , and Yuuri is… sweaty. So, very sweaty. 

He is also vaguely aware of Phichit standing next to Victor with a smile so bright it rivals the sun itself and a Louis Vuitton bag slung over his shoulder, bursting at the seams with different packages. 

Okay… this is fine. Yuuri’s heart is just beating so fast that if anyone looked close enough they’d see his pulse thumping heavy in his throat, and it’s _fine_.

He doesn’t even have a chance to close his stupid mouth or get a single word out, though, before Phichit is shoving his way into the house, practically using his bag as a battering ram when Yuuri gives no sign of moving anytime soon.

The rest sort of happens in slow motion. 

Yuuri truly has no idea how he manages to fuck up this bad, but he’s _Yuuri_ , so he really shouldn’t be surprised anymore when the universe proves time and time again that it has favorites and that he is definitely _not_ one of them. 

Phichit is already making a show of dumping out the contents of the designer bag onto the couch with glee and Victor is only just beginning to step into the cramped apartment—clearly stiff and awkward, totally out of his element no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it—and Yuuri just… stumbles. Literally. 

Yuuri reaches out to close the door right as Victor’s finally inside, then next thing he knows, socks are catching on Versace boots, scuffing against the floor, and Yuuri is slipping forward; hopping on one foot and bracing himself as fast as he can on the wall behind Victor’s head, his leg goes up, and then he knees Victor… right in the balls. Hard.

Yuuri gasps in horror and Victor makes the sound of a dying man as he grabs Yuuri by the shoulders to keep himself upright, squeezing tight. His mind quickly, and unhelpfully, races between: _fuck, if_ I _were hit that hard, I’d be crying like a baby_ , and, _oh my god_ , _I just touched Victor’s dick before I even said hello_.

Phichit roars with laughter somewhere in the living room.

And that’s how Yuuri ends up with Victor Nikiforov sitting on his couch with a frozen bag of peas in his lap.

Yuuri is sitting next to him, hands clasped together as he tries not to fidget too much, but Victor looks seconds away from projectile vomiting, and that’s definitely not helping his anxiety either.

“I’m really sorry,” Yuuri blurts for the hundredth time. “I’m such an idiot. I don’t even know how that _happened_ , I, I—” 

Victor waves a hand and smiles softly. “Don’t worry about it; it was an accident. At least you didn’t headbutt me and knock a tooth out or something. We’d _both_ be in a lot of trouble, then.”

Yuuri feels sick just thinking about it. Of course he knees Victor in the baby-maker in lieu of a charming greeting when they first meet. _Way to go_.

Phichit raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the soda can in his hand. “Sure it was an accident and not just the Katsuki way of coppin’ a feel? At least give the man a chance to get in the house, Yuuri!” he snickers.

All the blood in Yuuri’s body shoots directly to his face. “P—Phichit!” 

He grabs the nearest pillow, ready to launch it across the room at his (evil, _evil_ ) roommate, but Phichit throws his hands up to remind him he’s holding a drink, and Victor chuckles lightly beside him; the sound does absolutely _nothing_ to help Yuuri’s blush whatsoever. 

When Yuuri glances over, though, Victor looks a little pink, too, a light flush painted across the bridge of his nose… Oh?

No. That means nothing. Phichit is just embarrassing and terrible.

A silence follows after that, a brief reminder that this is the stupidest situation ever, but it doesn’t feel as weird as Yuuri would’ve expected.

Victor picks at the edge of the bag in his lap for a moment, his fingers glistening from the sheen of ice melting to liquid against his fingertips; it takes all of Yuuri’s effort to tear his eyes away, because he knows that if Victor glances over it'll seem like Yuuri is staring directly at his dick, and _that_ is weird. 

Victor clears his throat and finally looks up. Yuuri tries not to stiffen under his gaze. “So, your name’s Yuuri?” He smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges. “I have a new co-star with that name! They’re pronounced a little differently, though.”

“I know,” Yuuri replies without thinking. Phichit snorts.

Victor’s eyes widen in surprise, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth to bite back a smile as he drums his fingers against his thighs. “You’re a fan?”

“I—I guess you could say that, yeah,” he mumbles, reaching up to nervously scratch at his neck. “I’ve seen some of your stuff…”

Yuuri tries not to wince at his reply because _obviously_ he’s a fan… obviously. Why would he know the name of some random co-star of his if he weren’t a fan? Fuck.

Victor doesn’t seem to sense his awkwardness at all—or if he does, he pretends not to notice—and continues babbling excitedly, like this is the first fan of his he’s ever met; even though Yuuri’s sure he’s bombarded by crazed fans daily. 

“Aw, only some of it? Really?” He pouts. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed, because Phichit told me—”

“Hey!” Phichit interrupts, making them both jump. “How about I go pick up some dinner or something for the three of us? It’s my night to get some anyway, right?” He shoots a pointed look Yuuri’s way and it flies right over his head, unsurprisingly. “Victor, you can think of it as a thank you for saving my ass, yeah?” 

Victor looks just as confused as Yuuri is for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times before whatever silent conversation is passing between the two of them seems to click in his brain and, oh _no_ , Yuuri doesn’t like that at _all_. What the hell did Phichit tell him? Yuuri has never felt more on edge in his life. 

“Sounds good!” Victor chirps, heart-shaped grin stretching wide across his face. “Take your time. I’m sure Yuuri here can keep me entertained for awhile!”

Yuuri sends panicked glances in their direction because, no, he absolutely _cannot_ keep Victor entertained for _any_ amount of time; Yuuri is as entertaining as a goldfish swimming in circles around a small tank—what the hell?

He decides to ignore that for now, though, shouting after Phichit once he’s halfway out the door. “W—wait I thought you didn’t have any money?” he asks, pleading silently with his most intense ‘leave me here alone, and I’ll beat your ass later’ look. 

“Huh? What?” Yuuri can only see half of his face now. "Sorry, I suddenly can’t speak English! เจอกัน!”

The door clicks shut. Silence. Yuuri’s heart feels like it’s sitting pretty in his throat, blocking him from making any further conversation at all. He refuses to make eye contact. 

But the sound of peas being mushed under fidgeting hands is what snaps Yuuri back to reality. 

“O—oh, do you need another one? I can find something else if you want,” Yuuri frets, quickly reaching out to grab it, but thinking better of it and snatching his hand back. 

“No need, _Yuuuuri!_ ” Victor replies, dragging his name out in a way that is completely unnecessary and makes Yuuri blush all kinds of crazy. “I’m healed, thank you… You should probably put this back, though. I’d hate to get pea juice all over your nice couch.”

The shirt Victor’s wearing is likely three times the original price of Yuuri’s ‘nice couch’— the one he found ripped up on the side of the road and had to piece back together with Phichit one drunken night “because it’d be fun! DIY fun-time with my _best frienddd!_ ” as Phichit put it… but he doesn’t say that out loud. 

And how Victor manages to sound just as desirable saying the words ‘pea juice’ as he does giving a heartfelt monologue in the most dramatic of romance films is beyond him, but Yuuri tries not to dwell on that for too long. 

“If you’re sure…” 

Victor gives an easy smile and plops the bag in Yuuri’s lap before giving his hand a quick squeeze. Yuuri is never going to wash his hand again. 

“I’m sure.”

Yuuri nods shakily and shoots up from his seat, scurrying to the kitchen. He’s all too aware of Victor eye’s never leaving him and takes the opportunity to hide his face and defuse some of the heat burning under his skin once he swings the freezer open, assessing it quickly to see if he could possibly hoist himself inside and stay there forever. 

Maybe another time. 

Yuuri’s never been good at talking to people, at being the one to keep the conversation rolling; he can’t even do it with family members, which they fortunately understand, and are content with just letting him listen and butt in when he feels comfortable. So being expected to keep Victor Nikiforov entertained _himself,_ while together in his, _ahem_ … humble abode, is more than a little terrifying.

He feels wound tight, a tenacious grip clamped firmly across his windpipe as he acts out the motions any other normal human being in a conversation would while simultaneously _dying inside_. He needs… something. Something to keep him distracted, to cling to as a nice conversation starter—to soothe his nerves because he absolutely refuses to embarrass himself even further than he already has in front of his _celebrity crush_.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and Yuuri needs to make the most of it; anxiety be damned!

He quickly shoves the bag back in the freezer and closes the door with a slow exhale. And then a lightbulb goes off in his head: … hamsters.

There’s a reason animal-assisted therapy is such a popular thing: cute, fluffy creatures solve every problem _ever_.

Without so much as a glance in Victor’s direction, he bolts to Phichit’s room, ignoring the sticky note on the door strictly ordering Yuuri to stay out: _Katsuki Keep Out! U come in here, I draw mustaches on ALL of your posters!!! >:( _

(Yuuri has a habit of just… moving things around the house when he gets anxious… and yes, that includes items in bedrooms that aren’t his).

A second too late, because he’s an idiot, Yuuri realizes it probably appears as if he fled from the living room just to hide from Victor—but he’s not about to rush back out there and reassure the movie star; Yuuri is on a very important mission, after all.

But if Victor _is_ thinking that… well, Yuuri can’t really blame him; it is absolutely something he would do. 

He shakes his head and sighs to himself, trying not to trip as he maneuvers through dirty laundry, crushed soda cans, and cracked CD cases from obscure Thai rock bands Yuuri’s never heard of—meticulously placed landmines in the war zone that is Phichit’s bedroom. 

As soon as his fingers brush against the mansion of a hamster cage that resides on the other side of the room, happy squeaks fill the air as three of the four fur-babies come speeding out of their little homes (sparkling, colorful plastic in the shape of tiny castles because… of course); the chubbier of the bunch stays put, sleeping serenely under a mound of bedding in the corner.

“Hi guys!” he whispers cheerfully, some of the tension in his gut uncoiling already. Yuuri pretends the hamsters annoy him at times, but the truth is, if Phichit ever had to get rid of any of them, he’d be just as much of a mess as his roommate over it. 

“Did you miss me? I know, I know. I haven’t seen you in _forever_.”

Victor Nikiforov is sitting in his living room in all his sexy glory right now, crotch wet from an ice pack making it look like he actually just pissed himself, and instead of trying to be suave and flirty (which he never even could be—who’s he kidding?) and ask Victor if he wants to step out of those pants… Yuuri is talking to hamsters. 

If Mari or Phichit were here to witness this, he’d be getting slapped right now. Hard. Just the thought of it has his cheek stinging a little. 

He unlatches the door and slowly sticks his hand in, a stupid smile curving into place on his lips as they _meep!_ and sniff against his fingers. It’d probably be a bit overwhelming if he were to bring all of them out, and Yuuri’s not even sure if he’d be able to handle that chaos by himself anyway, so he gives a loving pet to all of their tiny heads with his index finger and briskly reaches in to pick up Josy and Minnie. 

They squirm in his palms as he nudges the door closed with his elbow, promising to give the other two extra love and attention later tonight and, “your dad will be home soon, and I’ll make sure he gives you extra hugs, too!” in Japanese, as if speaking in another language will make it easier for them to understand the nonsense he’s spewing.

Right. Victor. Hamster mission; he has things to do. 

He double checks the door is latched properly and makes his careful escape out of the bedroom, pressing gentle kisses to Josy and Minnie as he shuffles through the dim hallway.

When he catches sight of his own door still slightly ajar and the outlines of his many Victor posters tacked against the wall, he lurches forward with all the grace of a dump truck and slams it closed, chest heaving as he spins to keep walking.

With a deep breath, he puts his hands behind his back and cups his palms so Josy and Minnie won’t jump out, hiding the two of them as best he can as he faces the entrance to the living room— _because_ , his brain so helpfully supplies, if Victor is going to have him on edge like this all night, completely losing his mind over _nothing_ while the silver-haired man just sits there being his confident, amazing, _perfect_ self… then Yuuri has to freak him out a little, too, at least, and surprising him with hamsters seems like a good way to do just that. 

Sound logic indeed. (Yuuri silently prays that Victor doesn’t have some sort of deadly gerbil allergy he’s about to trigger right now.)

But he stops in his tracks at the sight of Victor frantically patting over his jeans with his hands (his pale, elegant hands— _oh my god, shut up_ ), Yuuri’s eyes widening slightly as he lifts his hips high up off the couch to feel against his back pockets too… what… what is he doing? 

Whatever it is, it’s making Yuuri’s brain short-circuit. 

“Uh,” is what dumbly falls out of Yuuri’s mouth.

Victor promptly sets his hips back down ( _noooo!_ ) and looks up, bashful, in Yuuri’s direction. He fortunately ignores the English language seemingly flying out of Yuuri’s brain completely. “I think Phichit took my keys.”

That… that’s… okay.

Yuuri closes his eyes and heaves a long-suffering sigh in response.

He honestly doesn’t feel as shocked as he probably should; out of everything else that’s happened tonight, taking Victor’s keys is nothing, but he still kind of wants to kick his roommate for it because, _Phichit! You can’t just take sexy peoples’ car keys!_

He’ll come back eventually, though, and Yuuri makes a mental note to rearrange absolutely _everything_ in Phichit’s room before he gets home later as punishment. That’ll show him… maybe.

Yuuri shakes his head and scrunches his nose up in annoyance, finally walking over to Victor on the couch and looking down at him with apologetic eyes, completely forgetting what he was even planning in the first place.

“I’m sorry tonight’s been so chaotic; you don’t have to pretend like you’re not bothered by all of this, just so you know,” Yuuri says, voice wavering with his emotions. “If there’s anything I can do to make it a little better, j—just… let me know? I mean, I don’t know how much I _can_ do. I’m really bad at comforting people, and our movie collection kinda sucks so I don’t know if anything we have will help you relax. And, ah, our kitchen’s kinda lacking, too, though, so I guess I can’t make you food either, but—”

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s mouth snaps shut and his gaze flickers to the floor instead. God, he never knows when to shut up. He either blabbers so much he loses his voice or he’s so quiet people assume he’s mute. 

He jumps when a finger comes up to poke him lightly in the stomach, his head jerking back up. 

Victor’s staring back at him with a look way too fond for being directed at someone who’s basically a stranger; a stranger who’s friends with the guy that just stole his damn car keys, too. If anything, Victor should be pissed, right? Yuuri’s now legally an asshole by proxy… carjacker by association… or something. 

“Relax. I think you need to worry a little less.” Victor chuckles. “I’m not bothered! I mean… I was a little bothered when I thought your friend was _actually_ going to murder me in my beautiful Cadillac—didn’t want blood to ruin the seats, y’know?—but I’m past that now!”

Yuuri blinks.

“Besides! This is the most fun I’ve had in awhile, and I’m in great company, too.” He winks… _winks_. Yuuri hates his life so much right now. 

“Are you sure Phichit didn’t hit you over the head earlier?” 

Victor hums thoughtfully, finger pressed against his chin. “Y’know what? Maybe he did. You do look a little too beautiful to be real after all. This could all just be a crazy dream.”

Okay, so definitely hit over the head, then. That’s the only explanation that comes to mind as to why Victor Nikiforov, or anyone for that matter, would ever refer to Yuuri as beautiful.

Yuuri isn’t beautiful. Yuuri is five feet and eight inches of anxiety and awkwardness—the most perfect but unfortunate match— blended together and morphed into a body of too-pale skin and baby fat that refuses to let go.

“Aha… right.” Yuuri legitimately feels like he’s slowly suffocating. “I should go get another ice pack—”

“Yuuri, I was just kidding! Well, no, not about the beautiful part, but the head part. My noggin is fine, I think… Sit down?” he asks with all the excitement of a puppy brought to it’s new home for the first time. 

“U—uh… okay, yeah.” He moves to sit but stops once he remembers his oh-so-important mission. "Wait!”

Victor startles and looks up at him with a curious expression, head tilted to the side and fringe hanging delicately over his eye. _Phichit_ , he thinks to himself, _how dare you put me in this position. You are awful, and I love you._

“I—I have a surprise,” he continues lamely, inwardly cringing. 

“A surprise!” Victor exclaims, practically bouncing in his seat. The longer Yuuri’s in his presence, the more perplexed he is over how Victor’s managed to get through the making of a single movie; it seems like he wouldn’t be able to sit still or hold a smile back even if his life depended on it. 

“What kind of surprise? Is it a— _oh!_ Is it what you’re holding behind your back? What’s behind your back? It’s not a snake, is it?”

Yuuri’s brain spins over the onslaught of questions. He never in a million years would’ve pictured Victor Nikiforov being this… this… annoying? Yuuri kind of loves it.

“No.” He shakes his head (too fast) and his glasses slide down his nose. "Not a snake, definitely not a snake. It’s… uh… here.”

He finally brings his hands out in front of him, presenting them to Victor like Yuuri’s a child showing off his most prized possession to his parents; except instead of messy macaroni art to hang on the fridge, it’s one tuft of wriggly grey fur in one hand and orange and white fluff in the other. 

Victor jumps back and shrieks, arms coming up around him like a shield, and Yuuri feels a brief flash of panic in his stomach. Was he right to worry about the gerbil allergy after all? The last thing he needs right now is a dead superstar on his floor; that would not end well.

“Hamsters!” Victor squeaks. “Those are hamsters!”

Yuuri shifts awkwardly on his feet, protectively bringing his hands up to his face to nuzzle against the fur. This was probably a bad idea.

“Yeah, uh… good eye? Do you want to hold one? I thought… I don’t know. You went through all the trouble of helping Phichit get them treats, so maybe you wanted to see who you were spoiling?” 

Yeah, good explanation. That makes sense, right? Totally didn’t just bring them out to ease his own crippling anxiety or anything. 

Victor’s hands lower slightly, some of his prior stiffness subsiding as he blinks up at Yuuri. He can only see Victor’s eyes over the tops of his balled up fists now and, wow… his eyes really are just that blue, huh?

“H—hold one?” he breathes. “Are you sure? What if I break one? Do they _bite_?”

Yuuri can’t help but snort at that. So that’s what’s happening here. Victor Nikiforov, practically bursting from the amount of charm and elegance he absolutely radiates from the inside out, textbook definition of calm, cool, and collected (at least on camera)… has a fear of hamsters.

“ _Break_ one? What does that even—nevermind, here, just take her.” Yuuri leans down to nudge Josy against Victor’s still-closed fist, urging him to open up. “This is Josy. She’s a sweetheart and neither of them bite. She might try to eat your hair, though?”

Victor flinches back and splutters. “My _hair_?!”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and taps against his fist a few more times; he can tell Josy’s getting antsy, and _that_ is what’ll lead to Victor getting nipped—and if that ends up happening, well, Victor will have deserved it anyway. 

“Just push your hair back and you’ll be fine, Mr. Hollywood,” Yuuri teases, already feeling more at ease knowing Victor is a little wound up, too. That’s probably cruel of him, but whatever. 

“C’mon, she’s squirming. She wants you to love her already!”

Victor lets out a high keening sound in the back of his throat, slowly unfurling his fists and putting his hands out palm up. Yuuri huffs fondly and gently settles Josy against his outstretched hands, Victor clearly trying to hide his discomfort but doing a pisspoor job; his body’s practically vibrating as Josy skitters between his palms, whiskers tickling his skin as she gets familiar with her new surroundings. 

Yuuri gives a small smile and finally goes to sit down, miscalculating how close they are to each other already, and tries not to squeal when he winds up with his thigh pressed firmly against Victor’s own, but Victor seems too distracted to notice. Yuuri breathes a quick sigh of relief. 

A few moments of silence pass, silence Yuuri uses to get comfortable, to set Minnie down in his lap so he can stretch out his arms and try not to feel too overwhelmed by the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, the fuzziness in his brain, the whirlwinds in his stomach—all over being this close to Victor. 

So maybe the hamsters aren’t helping out as much as he’d hoped, but at least they’re soothing some of the initial panic. 

Meanwhile, Victor is stock-still next to him, sitting straight as a board as he just _stares_ at the hamster in his hand like he’s worried any movement he makes really will ‘break’ Josy. Yuuri has to bite his lip to hide an amused smile. 

It’s embarrassing the amount of mental preparation it takes, but Yuuri eventually starts to pity the man a bit and nudges Victor’s side lightly with his elbow, and… oh… Yuuri’s seen Victor shirtless in movies countless times before, but that touch alone just confirmed whatever’s under Victor’s shirt right now is _rock solid_ ; Yuuri feels like his brain is well and truly malfunctioning.

The touch seems to do the trick, though, and Victor shakes himself a bit and turns, stilted, to look at him. Yuuri offers a smile, already feeling the blush slowly crawling up his neck, and reassures him with a quiet, teasing, “relax. I think you need to worry a little less,” turning Victor’s own words back around on him. 

Victor’s eyes light up, his mouth pulling to the side against a sheepish smile. Yuuri feels himself relax, too, somewhat, as Victor breathes a small, shaky sigh and finally leans back against the couch. 

His gaze inevitably returns to Josy, eyes unblinking. “She’s… tiny,” he murmurs. 

Yuuri giggles and shifts on the cushion, scratching a finger behind Minnie’s ear as she tucks herself against his thighs. “Hamsters tend to be that way, yes.”

Victor snickers and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything else. He eventually works up the courage to gingerly stroke a finger along Josy’s back, though, so at least they’re making some progress. 

“You look nervous,” Yuuri notes. 

“That’s because I am." He glances over with a smirk. “Small animals make me nervous.”

Yuuri frowns and purses his lips, petting Minnie while he ponders. “Small animals make you… nervous,” he repeats. Shouldn't it be the other way around? _Big_ animals make people nervous; giant, rowdy dogs, birds with massive wingspans… bears? Since when do things as harmless as _hamsters_ make anyone nervous?

Then again, nothing about this night so far, or Victor himself, has made a fraction of sense anyway, so Yuuri really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. 

“Well, they’re just so precious!” Victor defends, voice pitching higher as he moves his free hand around. “They’re little, and I’m worried I’ll hurt them! That’s why I could never get a small dog—a chihuahua or something—too worried I’d step on it.”

Yuuri shakes his head and huffs, grinning wryly. “Ah, see, I’m the opposite. I love small dogs; I always think big ones are going to bowl me over. I, uh…" He takes a moment to wiggle his phone out of his back pocket. "I actually have a toy poodle back home in Japan.” 

Is this okay? For some reason Yuuri feels like anything beyond small talk with a celebrity is forbidden; security always rushes fans along after too long anyway, right? He’s probably secretly annoying the hell out of Victor right now, shoving gerbils in his face, reminiscing about his beloved poodle when Victor didn’t even _ask_. Yuuri probably needs to stop talking, like… soon. 

He flushes self-consciously, suddenly feeling a bit too much like an overzealous fan. Why would Victor care about Yuuri’s dog when he clearly has other things to worry about? Like getting back to the extravagant hotel he’s likely staying in, or, uh, _getting his stolen car back_ …

Victor doesn’t give him much time to worry, though, startling Yuuri as he gasps and whirls around to face him, setting Josy down in his lap with a loving pet before fervently squeezing Yuuri’s shoulder. “You _do_?! Do you have pictures? I wanna see!” 

Yuuri babbles nonsensically for a moment, definitely not anticipating that sort of reaction at all, before wordlessly unlocking his phone and going straight to his gallery.

He silently thanks his past self for changing his wallpaper yesterday from a photo of Victor during his most recent photoshoot to one of Yuuri and Phichit instead.

Victor leans over to look at the screen, moving impossibly closer until Yuuri feels his hair tickling the side of his cheek, using all of his mental strength to calm the hell down and keep his breathing steady. 

Victor coos delightedly as Yuuri scrolls through the folder dedicated to the poodle he misses so dearly, making sure to pause long enough so Victor can take it all in—per his request. If there’s one thing Yuuri will always feel comfortable doing, it’s showing off his dog.

“What’s their name?” Victor hums happily, zooming in on a photo of the poodle lounging across Yuuri’s childhood bed with a blue, knitted beanie tucked over his head, leaving only his nose visible. 

Yuuri’s chest suddenly aches with the need to see his dog again, not even bothering to think about his reply to Victor’s question before the answer is already tumbling halfway out of his mouth.

“His name’s Vi—” Yuuri catches himself, feeling like his heart just shot up to his throat and sank like a stone down to his _ass_ immediately after. “Vicchan!” 

“Vicchan! That’s so cute!” Victor grins, oblivious to Yuuri’s inner turmoil as he swipes to the next photo. “I’ve never heard that name before. Is it common? Or like… have a special meaning?”

Yuuri inconspicuously wipes the sweat he feels forming on his upper lip and shakes his head, clicking his phone off and shoving it back in his pocket. That’s enough near death experiences for one day.

“Aha, uh, no,” he replies awkwardly, looking down where Minnie has decided to take a snooze in his lap. “My mom just thought it sounded sweet so we went with it.” 

Lie. Biggest lie he’s ever told _ever_ —right to the guy’s face, too. But there’s no way in hell he’d ever admit to naming his dog after Victor; no matter how adorable his friends and family insisted it was. He vividly remembers the day he brought Vicchan home and announced the name he’d picked out and why. Mari had a field day with that one.

“ _Aww_ , well mama Katsuki has great taste in names! Vicchan is adorable.” Victor sighs, smiling as he picks Josy back up to cuddle her against his chest. Now that she’s passed the no-biting test and hasn’t died from Victor just touching her, he seems much more at ease. 

_Yeah_ , Yuuri thinks, _Vicchan really is adorable_ —and he doesn’t even know which one he’s referring to anymore.

Victor inevitably ruins the moment, though, shooting Yuuri a pointed look with a smirk. “So… are you gonna admit that you’ve seen more than just 'some of my stuff'?”

Yuuri jolts and swiftly averts his gaze, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot. He knows he's a bad liar but he didn’t think he’d been _that_ obvious about it.

“Wh—! Ah… I…” Yuuri flounders. "Okay… maybe I’ve seen a little more than some of it,” he concedes. “How’d you know?”

“Phichit!” he exclaims gleefully. 

Oh, Yuuri was _really_ going to kick his ass now. 

“Of course,” Yuuri groans, burying his head in his hands. “… What’d he tell you exactly?” 

Yuuri definitely doesn’t want to hear it, but he’s a masochist at heart, apparently, so he forces himself to ask anyway. At least once he gets the answer he won’t end up lying again and making himself look like a total idiot since Victor seems to already _know_.

“Mmm…” he hums; Yuuri can already hear the smile in his voice. “Just that his sweet little roommate has seen everything I’ve been in a million times now and owns a poster or two.”

“Oh my god, he told you that?!” Yuuri’s head shoots up, aghast. "That’s not—I… I hate him. I do.” 

That is quite possibly one of the _worst_ ways Phichit could’ve put it. Not, “yeah, he’s seen most of your movies. He thinks you’re a pretty cool guy!” but, “he’s literally seen every single one of your movies and could recite the scripts himself if asked. Also, his merch collection is steadily growing day by day.”

Yuuri sighs sorrowfully and sags against the couch, petting Minnie for comfort. “Is this the part where you turn into the cocky star everyone thinks you are? You gonna tease me about it now?” he mumbles, refusing to make eye contact anymore. “… Go on, get it over with.” 

Because that’s what’s supposed to happen next, right? Yuuri was prepared for this—as prepared as he could be in a situation like this. He finally gets a chance to meet the one man he’s so infatuated with, the man who’s so passionate about his own craft that he’s inspired Yuuri in ways no figure skater ever has even, when their outlets for creativity are completely different; that’s powerful. _Victor_ is powerful (confident, beautiful)—sparkling with charisma and passion. And now he knows Yuuri’s a major fan just like everybody else. 

He tried to lie his way out of it, to prove that maybe he really could handle a one-on-one conversation with the man he so greatly admires, but no. He’s just another fan—-an obsessed one, at that—and Yuuri’s sure Victor is probably feeling… annoyed? Disappointed? Yuuri doesn’t even know. He doesn't— 

“Yuuri?” Victor yanks his attention back like a string tied around a loose tooth, head popping up instantly at the sound of Victor’s voice wrapped around his name. Victor doesn’t look mad, though. Or annoyed, or smug, or… any of that. He looks thoughtful.

Yuuri looks at him curiously. 

“I would never tease you for liking the projects I’ve dedicated my entire life to,” Victor says seriously. “I actually appreciate it quite a bit; someone who seems to actually enjoy the films, the important stuff, and not _just_ my image. You don’t believe everything you read about me, do you?”

Yuuri opens his mouth to reply immediately because the answer is simple. It’s on the tip of his tongue: No. No, of course not. Right? Though, thinking about it now, Yuuri realizes he sort of did. How else was he supposed to learn anything about the man next to him if not for the gossip rags, the late night shows where hosts talk _about_ him but not _with_ him, discussing all the latest rumors, latest scandals, latest candid photos. 

They depict him as a party animal—a playboy. An absolute machine in the industry, grinding out film after film and filling roles with such ease it almost seems as natural as breathing to him. And how could Victor be any other way, really? 

Of course he’s overly confident, of course he’s a playboy, of course he's a party animal. Not that any of those things are inherently bad, but it makes sense for Victor to be all of that. He seems perfectly capable of filling those stereotypes with the way he acts as soon as a camera is on him. 

But then Yuuri turns to look at him. _Really_ look at him. 

There’s a twinkle in Victor’s eye and a tender smile on his face, one Yuuri realizes hasn’t really gone away since he stepped into the apartment (except for during that one horrific incident Yuuri refuses to think about ever again). 

His hair’s a little greasy, hanging limp over one eye and farther from perfectly styled than anything could be. His pores are visible—albeit small, the lucky bastard—across his pointed nose, and there’s even a zit on the right side of his jaw. He’s covered in hamster fur, his shirt is slightly wrinkled, and if he looks close enough, Yuuri can even make out the marks on Victor’s nails where he seems to stress bite.

And that’s when it hits him: Oh… so the ‘real him’ is all an act, too. 

Victor isn’t really the suave playboy making millions, partying the nights away and leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Victor’s just like anybody else; he’s human.

And he’s _beautiful_.

“… I guess I don’t.”

“Good! Most of it’s made up anyway. I’m too much of a softy to be okay breaking that many hearts.” He laughs, light and airy. “Oh, and I never fucked Christophe, I never screamed at that one cameraman months ago, I also—surprise— _don’t_ have two daughters and a lovely wife hiding away in Russia to stay out of the spotlight. I…”

And then he continues to go down the list without Yuuri even needing to pry at all. Here Victor is, slowly deconstructing the massive presence and image Yuuri had conjured in his mind—of what he thought Victor was really like—and putting the pieces back together in a way somehow even more unique than before. 

What was once a simple black and white portrait that drew Yuuri in in the first place, with only splashes of color to brighten it, is now a beautiful, abstract painting; full of spiraling neons, smeared ink, and splatters of vibrant hues that shouldn’t even pair well together but _do_. 

Yuuri would be hard-pressed to figure out just how long they spend talking on the couch after that. It's like once Yuuri finally accepts the fact that Victor isn't _actually_ some god among men, things get easier.

A little. There's still an attractive, witty, exuberant man pressed up against his side, actively trying to make conversation with him, and that continues to do funny things to Yuuri’s heart no matter how hard he tries to stomp the feeling down. 

They tease back and forth, laughing and kicking each other’s feet while Josy and Minnie run across their legs and up their arms, snuggling into their necks and making Victor squawk because he’s ticklish.

Yuuri talks about growing up in Hasetsu; about running from the onsen when him and Mari were younger to avoid doing the dishes, playing under the cherry blossoms blooming in the springtime instead (only for mom to make them do even more chores the second they got home); about learning to ice skate with his childhood friends and his mom’s heavenly cooking when Victor asks (“What’s katsudon? Phichit claims you’re an enthusiast!”).

Victor replies with his own childhood stories, too, though they're much different from Yuuri’s own. He talks about the fierce weather in Russia and the biting cold (“It’s either freezing or disgustingly hot, and even when it’s warm it doesn’t sound nearly as sweet and gorgeous as your little Hasetsu seems to be!”), about him, too, learning to ice skate (because everyone there did) and his beginning interests in acting. He even reminisces about dancing around the kitchen with his mom while they sang along to musical soundtracks every morning and participating in an elementary school play for the first time, feeling an unbelievable amount of joy over getting cast as ‘Tree #1’. 

Yuuri even manages to stay calm when Victor gives him his number, too; his personal cell number. Yuuri Katsuki… has Victor Nikiforov’s phone number—and if you told him this is how he’d be spending his night just yesterday, he would’ve laughed until he dropped. 

Besides Phichit, Yuuri hasn’t felt a connection like this with another person in a long time. In fact, he doesn’t think anyone ever _has_ made him feel a connection quite like this before. Whether or not Yuuri’s only making it up in his head, he’s not entirely sure, but he’s content nonetheless; happy and a little jittery, too. 

“Do you have a favorite?” Victor asks, leaning his arm against the top of the couch with his head cradled in his palm. Minnie is in his lap now, scratching and sniffing at his jeans.

“A favorite …?” Yuuri trails off with a frown. They were just talking about Yuuri hating garbage duty during busy nights at the onsen, and he’s fairly certain Victor doesn’t care what his favorite brand of garbage can is.

“Movie of mine, duh!” Victor exclaims with a smack to Yuuri’s arm. “Is it the thriller that was just released? You seem like the kinda guy who’s into thrillers or mysteries. Or is it—” 

“ _The Dance of the Heart_.” 

Victor blinks, taken aback. It takes him a second to gather his thoughts for some reason. “The…” 

“ _The Dance of the Heart_ ,” Yuuri repeats, his voice a bit more timid now. “That’s what it’s called, right? Or… that’s what it translates to, I think, since it’s originally in Russian.”

 _The Dance of the Heart_ is a movie that will likely be dear to Yuuri’s own heart forever. If he thought Victor was amazing after seeing one of his more notorious Hollywood-esque films for the first time, that obscure little Russian film sealed the deal immediately. 

He remembers digging it up on a sketchy movie site, curious about Victor’s acting career when he was younger. He wasn’t expecting much that night, bundled up in his duvet in the dark, mentally preparing himself for some cringeworthy indie film full of gruff accents and stiff ballet.

Lets just say, Yuuri was already blown away halfway through the first scene.

He remembers his eyes widening at the sight of a lithe, eighteen-year-old Victor Nikiforov stretching and twirling across the dim studio. Instead of the tight up-do most would expect to see in ballet, Victor’s silver hair was waist-length and spinning around him like the most graceful tornado. 

Arms outstretched, reaching for something with the most forlorn expression Yuuri had ever seen, feeling it deep in his soul when Victor tripped over his own feet with purpose; telling the tale of a desperate and lonely man, a tale he’s only able to properly release in the form of leaps and spins in an empty studio. 

It was beautifully done. The fight scenes between dancers, between Victor and his parents, were intense and had his heart pounding. The dramatic shots of Victor staring out into the grey ocean, his porcelain skin and dark circles nearly blending into the dreary atmosphere around him, the stolen kisses in the changing rooms, the sudden fire in his eyes when he realized he finally had a reason to dance again—it was like nothing else. 

Yuuri’s seen it more times than he can count now, yet it hits him with a surge of inspiration every time.

“U—uh, no, yeah… that’s it,” Victor stutters, his usual bravado fading. “I just never expected someone to actually like that movie, let alone claim it as their favorite.”

“Why do you say that?” Yuuri asks, a little distracted as he tries to stop Josy from burrowing under the couch cushion. “It’s amazing. I… I’ve seen it more than any of your other movies.”

“Wait, _really_ ? Why?” Victor questions, quickly adjusting his position on the couch in anticipation. “It’s so _old_ , and I was so…” He makes a face and sticks his tongue out. “Y’know?”

Yuuri snorts. He actually _doesn’t_ know… at all. So he says as much, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well, I was just so young,” he explains with a wave of his hand. “That was one of my first movies; actually, I think it was the second ‘big’ movie I ever starred in. I didn’t know many people outside of Russia even knew it existed. Oh, _god_." He puts his hand over his face and groans. "Now I’m embarrassed. I was ridiculous in that movie; it’s so hard to watch.”

“What? Are we talking about the same movie?” Yuuri frowns and scoots closer, reaching forward to pull Victor’s hands off his face. "You were far from ridiculous. You were…” 

“Awkward? Terrible?” he supplies with a rueful smile. “I don’t know, Yuuri. You might’ve missed how stilted and empty I delivered my lines because you don’t speak the language, but I was just a teenager back then. My acting _sucked_. My dancing was decent, though! I had fun doing that!” He beams excitedly. “I didn’t do that role justice at all, though.”

Okay, correction. There are two things Yuuri’s comfortable doing (and will do so happily): showing off pictures of Vicchan, and defending the hell out of anything he loves. 

“Wh—what?!” he squeaks incredulously. “You weren’t terrible! Y—you were… _phenomenal_. You totally did the role justice in every way; I don’t know what you’re talking about. Adrian is _supposed_ to be cold and awkward! He’s losing his inspiration for dance until he meets his new partner and falls in love with her, and then he puts on the best show he’s ever done in the end because he’s found his… spark; it’s a beautiful story! 

You were just channeling your true emotions and putting them into a character and you can feel it through the screen, that’s all,” he continues, twiddling with the side of his glasses. “A—and even if some of your lines were off and I just missed it, I could feel the story you were telling through your dancing anyway. Which is exactly what dancing should do: bleed emotion. It was… magical,” he finishes with a huff and crosses his arms.

Yuuri realizes a minute too late that he just rambled like a moron in front of Victor Nikiforov, waxed poetic about his acting and ballet skills to his _face_ … Not for the first time tonight, Yuuri wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

Victor’s staring back at him with a shocked expression, lips parted in surprise. Yuuri feels the color of his face swiftly change to that of a tomato.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself to spew a bunch of apologies for some reason, to—he doesn’t _know_ —take it all back? Say he was kidding? No, he can’t do that. That’d hurt Victor’s feelings, probably, and would also be a _huge_ lie— 

“Has anyone ever told you that you are just full of surprises, Yuuri?” Victor asks, voice hushed. 

Yuuri snaps his mouth shut and swallows, nervously moving his hand up to adjust his glasses again. “No,” he replies shakily, “because I’m not. I… I’m just me.”

Victor smiles warmly and shakes his head, ever so slightly leaning forward when they’re already sitting so close. They’re only a few inches apart now, close enough that Yuuri could count his eyelashes if he really wanted to. Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Just you,” Victor hums, his breath ghosting across Yuuri’s cheek. 

Yuuri doesn’t reply, his mouth not willing to cooperate anymore, apparently, as he focuses his attention on Victor's saccharine smile instead—so sweet it’s sending Yuuri into a pseudo-sugar-rush, body and mind jittery with nerves.

“You’re awfully cute when you blush." He smirks, further intensifying the splotches of scarlet blooming over Yuuri’s cheeks.

Yuuri squirms, idly stroking Josy where she’s perched on the armrest now. “I’m always blushing.”

“Guess you’re just cute all the time then, hm?” 

Yuuri doesn’t even get a chance to answer this time before Victor’s suddenly leaning in, their noses brushing and Yuuri’s heart pounding wildly in his chest. Victor’s hand comes up smoothly to rest on the back of Yuuri’s neck… 

And then Phichit practically kicks the door open, announcing his arrival with an obnoxious shout. “Hope you guys are decent! I brought chicken wings; found enough change in my pocket to get some, baby!”

Yuuri and Victor break apart like they’ve been electrocuted, turning to look at the door so fast Yuuri’s sure he’ll develop whiplash, while Victor presses himself against the couch with a hand over his chest and his eyes closed, clearly feeling just as stunned.

Phichit stops and stares, glancing between the two of them with his mouth slightly agape. “Ah, _man_ ," he sighs. “I ruined a moment.”

Victor blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair, using his other to set Minnie down in Yuuri’s lap instead. “A little bit, yeah,” he replies, still sounding breathless. 

Phichit shakes the bag in his hand in annoyance, pinning Yuuri with a _look_. “I thought I was gone long enough! Yuuri, what the hell, it took you _two hours_ to make a move?”

Yuuri splutters, looking back and forth between his best friend and… whatever Victor is. “I wasn’t—I didn’t …”

Was he supposed to be making a move _sooner_ ? Yuuri wasn’t aware of this at all. He had only realized Victor’s over the top jokes were likely his way of flirting when Victor was literally centimetres away from _kissing_ him, for Christ’s sake. 

Yuuri leans his head back and groans pitifully at the ceiling. 

Victor just laughs. “ _I_ was in the process of making a move, but it’s fine. At least I got to spend time with you at all,” he reasons, booping Yuuri on the nose with his finger. Yuuri squeals. 

“Besides! I could always see you again soon and finish what I started, right?” He gets off the couch with a wink and stalks over to Phichit, curiously peeking into the plastic bag. "What kind of wings did you get? Did you get sauce on my seats?” 

“No, sir!” Phichit replies with a little salute. “Went to the place down the street; got the hottest kind I could get my hands on.”

Victor wrinkles his nose. “Oh, gross. I don’t do spicy.”

“‘Course you don’t, you Russian weirdo.”

“Phichit!” Yuuri shouts.

Phichit innocently bats his lashes. “What?”

Yuuri watches the interaction in disbelief and shakes his head, finally standing up from the couch with Minnie and Josy in his hands. 

“Aw, Yuuri’s my little savior!” Victor cheers, bringing his hands up to squish his cheeks. “First healing me and now standing up to my bullies!”

“I didn’t know a two year old bag of frozen peas on your dick qualified as healing,” Phichit quips.

“Well, it does now!”

Yuuri sighs and trudges over to them, talking more to the hamsters than anyone else. "How is this my life?”

“I don’t know, but it’s pretty fun, huh? Especially with us two handsome devils around.” Phichit grins and puts his hand up. Victor immediately smacks down for a high five.

Yuuri couldn’t wipe the fond smile off his face even if he tried. Victor smiles right back.

After a few more minutes of aimless chit-chat, Phichit pulls Victor’s keys out of his pocket and Victor immediately reaches forward to swoop them out of his hand. This time, Yuuri is the one to give Phichit a _look_. Phichit just shrugs.

“Well, I thank you both for one of the craziest nights ever, but I think I should get going,” Victor sighs, and Yuuri feels disappointment stir in his gut. “My manager’s been waiting for me at our hotel this whole time and I’ve just been ignoring his texts. He’s gonna tear me a new one as soon as I get over there." He blanches.

The disappointment Yuuri feels quickly turns to guilt and confusion. “What?! Why did you stay this whole time? If I knew you needed to be somewhere, I would’ve called Phichit back over here!”

Yuuri doesn’t mention that there’s no guarantee Phichit would’ve listened at all because he’s the worst _and_ best friend Yuuri’s ever had.

Victor shakes his head, adamant. “It’s fine, I promise! Yakov’s used to me doing whatever I want at this point; I think I’m the reason he’s going bald. I was having fun anyway, talking to my _number one fan_ ,” he coos, eyes crinkling with his smile.

“I…” Yuuri falters. “… Really?”

Yuuri swears he hears Phichit mutter something like, “did you really just ask that?” under his breath, but he pointedly ignores it.

He still can’t comprehend how Victor, of all people, would ever enjoy spending hours with someone like _Yuuri_ —it doesn’t make sense here _or_ in any parallel universe with infinite possibilities that may exist—but it seems like tonight is the best night to suspend all disbelief and just roll with it considering the insanity that’s occurred thus far. 

“Yes, really!” He reaches out to playfully pinch Yuuri’s arm. If Yuuri didn’t have a handful of hamsters right now he would’ve swatted Victor’s hand away, so instead he just pouts.

“Then, uh, I’m glad you had a good time. I did, too,” Yuuri replies, looking down at the floor.

Victor tucks his hand under Yuuri’s chin and lifts his head up to look him in the eye. “I was hoping you did.”

With a smile on his face, Victor turns and makes his way to the front door. Yuuri follows closely behind to see him out, floating on cloud nine and feeling light on his feet every step of the way.

Once they’re finally outside, Yuuri leaning against the door frame with the hamsters handed back over to Phichit, Victor thanks them again. “Movie star life in Hollywood can get pretty boring, believe it or not, and I’m only here to film a few scenes before I’m off again. So this was the perfect pick-me-up!”

With the look on his face, you’d think Victor was thanking them for throwing him some amazing party or buying him an outrageous gift he’s been wanting for ages—not for practically holding him hostage in his own car then leaving him stranded with a dork and two hamsters once said car was taken _again_. Victor’s smile is so bright it nearly lights up the entire porch.

“No problem,” Yuuri replies softly. “I’ll… see you later?”

Victor bites his lip and nods. “Of course.”

Yuuri nods in response, watching as Victor slowly takes his first step to leave, then stops abruptly, turning back around to face him.

“Forget something?” Yuuri asks, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, I definitely need to do this before I go.”

Suddenly, Victor’s pressed snug against him, arms tight around Yuuri’s waist and his soft lips against Yuuri’s own. He squeaks against Victor’s mouth, eyes bulging and arms flailing before they instinctively settle around Victor’s shoulders, moving up on his toes and allowing himself to melt into the embrace completely.

Victor pulls away a few seconds later with a dopey grin, rubbing his thumb in circles against Yuuri’s lower back. Yuuri is utterly speechless. Phichit is screeching somewhere behind him. 

He gives Yuuri’s waist one last loving squeeze before stepping off the porch with a little wave.

“You better call me later, Yuuri!” He smirks as he backs away. "Who knows, maybe I could even get you in one of my movies sometime. A face that pretty deserves to be on the big screen at least once, don’t you think?”

And then he’s off, turning on his heel and swinging his keys around his finger as he saunters over to his car down the street. Yuuri didn’t even get a chance to stay goodbye, feeling terribly close to collapsing right there in the doorway.

“Phichit…”

“Yuuri…”

“I am so in love.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Me: I'm gonna write a goofy little one-shot real quick. It'll probably only be 6k or so!:)  
> Me, 17,000 words later: Ah ...
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this mess! This is my first YOI fic and I had a lot of fun writing it. I'm also using this as a way to see how active the fandom still is since I'm thinking of writing a magic / fantasy YOI AU soon too!:) 
> 
> (Side note: I do not _actually_ condone "good ol' pet store thievery"! Please don't use this fic as a reason to shoplift as much as your pockets will allow lmfao.)
> 
> **Comments & kudos are greatly appreciated!!!**
> 
> Edited on 11/21/20: Changed a good chunk of wording in multiple paragraphs, fixed sentence structure and some dialogue, etc. This was my first YOI fic so I know it wasn't the best and I felt the need to fix a few things. It's still not the best because I didn't want to change the original _that_ much, but... had to make some edits, lol.


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